Strif and Jalousye
by Jessie Shockey
Summary: A GW adaptation of Chaucer's "The Knight's Tale" - that's right, folks! a 2+4, 3+4 love triangle of the nth degree
1. Prologue

Warnings: EXTREME sap and melodrama! Much worship of Quatre (literally) Another strange fusion fic. Love triangle. Death. I hated to do it... Gabie is going to have my head on this one... Blame Chaucer. It's all his fault. Pairings: Um... In order of appearance or first mention ... 13+11, R+1, 6+9, 3+4, 2+4, 13+5. Or something like that. Some of this could be interpreted either way. 3+4 and 2+4 are the focus.  
  
For the past few weeks, my AP British Lit class has been studying the Canterbury Tales in great depth, and I just finished a very involved paper on the Knight's Tale. From the very beginning, I was struck by what a fantastic fusion I could make out of it. Lucky you! ^_^ And so, to finally purge this blasted thing from my consciousness....  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ Strif and Jalousye ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
++++++++ PROLOGUE ++++++++  
  
Once upon a time in ancient Greece, there was a mighty warrior by the name of Treize Khushrenada. He was a man of many conquests, most notably that of the terrible Minotaur and the Amazon nation of Scythia. It was from the latter that he rode with his newest prize, the Amazon Queen Une. By overcoming her best army in battle, he had won her heart as well as her hand, and now she was happily accompanying him back to his kingdom of Luxemburg, which he ruled with a fair and just hand.   
  
They had nearly made it home for their honeymoon when they came across a group of women weeping prostrate in the dusty road. Their robes and hair were torn and soiled, covered in ashes, blood, and dust. The women cried out to Treize for his aid, and so he and Une dismounted and tried to discern what was the matter.   
  
"Dear Treize!" The first of the women, cried. She was a kind-faced young girl with hair the color of wheat. "We are newly come from the oracle at Delphi, who has sent us to seek your intervention into a bloody feud. The despot Deciem has laid siege on our land, the peaceful kingdom of Sanq, and even now rakes and pillages the unprotected villagers and townspeople. Already he has slain my husband, the lord Heero, and my dear brother Milliardo."  
  
The second woman stepped forward, then. She was older than the wheat-haired girl, but no less beautiful, despite her bedraggled state. Her dark hair was cropped short in mourning. "Relena's brother, my husband, was the King of Sanq." She said, her voice strong and sure. " By all rights, she should be queen, now. Deciem sits on the throne, mocking us all and withholding the bodies of our men from us. Without a proper burial, we are unable to send their spirits to the gods. Help us, dear Treize, to finally lay them to rest. Help us to free our city!"  
  
"I think we should do as they ask." Une said softly from beside him. "I know I would be distraught if you were taken from me, so."   
  
Treize smiled down on her. She was in a markedly better mood than she had been earlier that morning, when she had ordered two porters put to death for getting her luggage muddy. "Dear ladies," He assured them, "I shall serve you as best I can until the throne is restored to your line, once again."  
  
And so, Treize, Une, and their entourage set out for Sanq, and in a matter of days had leveled the walls and slain the tyrant Deciem. Treize himself walked through the rubble in search of the bodies of the dead prince and king. There were looters all around, stripping the armor and jewelry from the dead and dying. Treize hated the thought of such men robbing the dead, but there was little he could do to stop it save order his own troops to stay well away from the battlefield once the fighting was over.   
  
He kicked aside a heavy, ornate shield in order to better see the body that it half obscured. The metal rang dully as he struck it and then flipped over twice with the force of his blow. He heard a small shout then, from the area where the shield had landed. He looked up with a start to meet frightened violet eyes. A young boy with long, tangled hair was hiding behind a fallen pillar. Beside him was another boy of similar age who was cringing in the rubble, his eyes shut. The children's hands were clasped tightly together, as if they feared that they would be wrenched apart.   
  
"They're kin of Deciem," Une said coldly behind him. "Sons of his two sisters. They should be killed before they are old enough to try and claim the throne."  
  
"They're just children," Treize told his wife, softly. "I can't kill children just because of kinship with a madman."  
  
"Well, you have to do something." She said with a haughty snort. "I'll kill them, if you want. It doesn't bother me. We kill male children all the time."  
  
Treize swallowed his reproach. Une's people were far different from his own. It was difficult, sometimes, to reconcile the usually devoted and kindly woman with the fierce Amazon who was unleashed with her anger. It was like he was married to two different women. "I'll have them brought back to Luxemburg and imprisoned in the tower." He decided. After a moment, Une nodded her approval of this plan of action and walked away, continuing her search for Deciem's head.  
  
+++ TBC 


	2. Chapter One

+++++ PART 1 +++++  
  
Trowa sighed and leaned his forehead against the cool stone wall beside the window. There was a smudge across the stone before his eyes, a mark proving how very long he and his cousin had spent in this tiny cell. Every day, Trowa would stand in the same spot, looking out on the courtyard below. Every day for the past ten years. It was no wonder that the stone was marked from his presence. The oils from his skin had stained the light stone a dull black over time. The bottom of the smudge was level with his chest. It was a marvel to him, sometimes, how very much he had grown in those few years. Long years.  
  
"Anything new?" Duo asked from the bed.   
  
"Not today," Trowa told him with another sigh. Outside the window, he could see the flowers in the garden below just beginning to bloom. Their tower was located on the farthest corner of King Treize's estate. One of the cursed walls was shared with the beautiful garden down below. Trowa thought he would have given anything for a chance to stroll the winding walks who's path he could trace from this great height. He wanted more than anything to touch the flowers who's soft fragrance was his only respite from the stale air of his prison. Well...That wasn't fair. There were birdsongs, as well.  
  
"You think they'll ever let us out?" Duo asked. Trowa could not see him from his vantage point, but he did not need sight to know exactly what he was doing. The two of them had spent so long staring at nothing but each other that there was no doubt in his mind that he knew the other boy's every mannerism - every thought. At the moment, from the sound of his voice, his cousin was dangling upside down from the edge of the tiny bed they shared.  
  
"Maybe," Trowa answered. They had this discussion every day. It never yielded any more hope than it did today. "I could probably guess better if we knew why we had been locked up in the first place."  
  
"See? That's what I always say!" Duo said. There was a muffled thump. The hyperactive boy had squirmed just a little too much and was now on the floor. Trowa smiled a little.   
  
"I know that's what you always say. Who do you think you always say it to?"   
  
"Well, it's the truth, Trowa. All I can figure is they thinks we're going to try and take over Sanq like Uncle Deciem did. But that's dumb. We're just kids!" Trowa sighed yet again and turned his face back to the window. Let Duo continue his rant. It hardly mattered if he tuned it out, again. He already had this particular tirade memorized. The clouds were pretty today. Wouldn't it be nice to be a cloud?   
  
He lowered his eyes from the sky after a while. The sun gave him headaches on bright days like this if he stared upward for to long. Below him, in the garden, there was a figure in white strolling slowly up one of the many winding paths. As it drew closer, Trowa recognized it as that of a young boy - and when this boy approached the bottom of the tower and looked up into the sky, himself, Trowa realized something else.   
  
He was beautiful. More beautiful than the flowers in the garden. More beautiful than the clouds and more beautiful than the sky. More beautiful than the songs of the birds that Trowa had once so envied for their freedom. More beautiful than anything.   
  
"A god..." He whispered in awe. To his mind, this was what he saw. No earthly being could have been so unbearably beautiful. He was looking down from his lofty perch upon a god with hair of gold and eyes of azure. Apollo, perhaps - the god of beauty. Or, no ... This boy must have been the very figure of Eros, the god of love, himself. How else could he have won mastery of Trowa's heart so instantly and completely?   
  
"What?" Duo asked from behind him.   
  
Trowa found that he had to swallow several times before he could speak. His legs were suddenly too weak to hold him upright, and so he dropped onto his knees. "There's a god in the garden, Duo," He whispered. "Eros." He slumped against the stone sill, then, resting his head on his hands. "I'll worship him, forever," he said with a pained sigh. "Do you think he's come to set us free from this terrible prison?"  
  
"Let me see..." Duo said eagerly. He sprung up from the bed and dashed over to where Trowa knelt beside the window. He looked out on the boy below for a long moment and then staggered backward, clutching his heart and gasping. He toppled to the rug and lay there, his eyes shut.   
  
"Are you okay?" Trowa asked. He'd never seen Duo act like /this/ before.   
  
"He's /gorgeous!/" Duo cried. "I would have been happy to spend the rest of my life just looking at him, but cupid's arrow struck me in the eye and heart... I'm dead, Trowa. Just...Throw me out the window so that I can be close to him?" He pleaded.   
  
"Are you making fun of me?" Trowa said irritably, never once taking his eyes off of the vision below. The god was picking flowers, now, holding them to his nose and inhaling their sweet fragrance.   
  
"Making - No! I'm in love!" Duo cried, leaping to his feet again. He pushed Trowa away from the window and took his place, staring down into the garden.   
  
"In love?" Trowa demanded. "You can't be serious! I saw him first."   
  
"Yeah, and you still think he's a god," Duo said, negligently. He wasn't really paying all that much attention to Trowa, anymore. The boy had bent over to pick some flowers on the other side of the path, and Duo could feel his mouth watering. "He's most definitely not anything holy. Not with that great an -"  
  
"Blasphemer!" Trowa snapped. "And even if he isn't a god, you're breaking your oath! We swore on our own blood that we would defend each other, back each other, no matter what. I laid a claim on him - "  
  
"Oh, you did not!" Duo argued.   
  
"I did! I may not have said it, but I was thinking it."  
  
"Yeah, well, I was the first one to say that I loved him, so by your twisted logic, he ought to be mine!"  
  
"But-!" Trowa cried. Then he slumped back down onto the ground beside his cousin. "I don't suppose it really matters, anyway." He muttered. "We can talk all that we like, but he's down there, and we're up here, and that's all there really is to it. Treize is never going to let us out of here. We shall both have to be content to worship his beauty from afar until we finally expire from the want of him."  
  
Duo sighed and leaned against him. "I suppose you're right."  
  
"And we're too young to really think of marriage, anyway." Trowa said sadly.   
  
Duo snorted. "Speak for yourself, dear cousin. I'm a whole two months older than you. Besides...I wasn't thinking of marriage."  
  
"He is beautiful, though, isn't he?" Trowa said with another forlorn sigh.   
  
"Yeah," Duo agreed with a sigh of his own. Together, they watched the young god from their high window until the sky grew dim and he finally trekked back to Treize's manor. Both supposed that they would just have to be content to do just that until the end of time.  
  
  
  
"And then- " Wufei said, laughing, as he poured himself another glass of Treize's finest wine. "And then she says "You're that funny little scholar boy!" He hiccoughed once and spilled a little of his wine as he tried to drink it. The older man had one hand up the bottom of his tunic, and it was distracting him. "And then we beat each other up!" He finished, proudly.  
  
"Glad to see that married life is treating you so well," Treize said with a smirk. He finished off the last of his glass and pressed a wet, openmouthed kiss to Wufei's flushed throat. "Just wait till you get the seven year itch."   
  
"Is that what it's called, old friend?" Wufei said with a knowing smirk. Treize's hands were being /very/ distracting, now, so he set his glass back onto the table. "I don't think it quite took you seven years."   
  
"I have twice the wife to deal with," Treize muttered. He licked his way up Wufei's neck to his willing lips. "That means half the time."  
  
"I don't think it quite took three," Wufei snickered. Not that he was complaining.   
  
"It all started to go downhill after that battle in Sanq..." Treize mused.   
  
"The battle in Sanq was your honeymoon," Wufei said, dryly  
  
"Maybe that was the problem," Treize said thoughtfully. "I think it first dawned on me that I'd made a mistake in choosing a wife when she wanted so badly to kill those little boys we found in the rubble."  
  
"Oh, I don't think I've heard /this/ particular war story." Wufei said as Treize pushed him back into the cushions of the couch. "You have to tell me, now, you know."  
  
"Well, I was looking for the King's body and I found these two little boys...they were Deciem's nephews, I think...and Une wanted to kill them, but I had them locked up in the tower-"  
  
"Deciem's nephew?" Wufei asked, his eyes wide. "Duo?"   
  
"You know one of them?" Treize asked.   
  
"I played with him all the time when we were children. He was fostered with my family. Tell me he isn't still locked up in there...It's been four years, at least!"  
  
"Calm down, love," Treize whispered into his ear. "if it means that much to you, I'll have him released in the morning. He'll have to go back to Sanq, though, or Une will likely go after his head."  
  
"Mmm... You're a good friend." Wufei said, snuggling down against Treize's chest. "That's awfully nice of you."  
  
"Wufei," Treize said very earnestly. "For you, I would go to hell and back" (*)  
  
  
  
"I DON'T WANNA GOOOOO!!!!" Duo wailed as he was dragged away from the gates of Treize's estate.   
  
"He must have gone crazy, locked up there for so long," one of the guards muttered to the other. "Here we are, giving him the chance to go home, and we have to drag him away from his prison!"  
  
"But I don't want to go hooooome!!!" Duo cried. He stretched out his hands to the bars of the gate. "Take me back! I'll be good! I promise!"  
  
"You can't go back," The other guard told him, giving his manacled arm a good hard yank. "You've been banished, kid. If they catch you in Luxemburg, Queen Une gets your head."  
  
"But I don't want to go..." Duo whimpered. "If you send me back to Sanq, I'll never see him again!"   
  
"Who's him?" The first guard asked.   
  
"The boy in the garden. The beautiful, beautiful -"  
  
"You mean Quatre?" The second interrupted. "Treize's cousin? Ha. You'd have a mighty fine time winning his heart even if you weren't all the way in Sanq. He doesn't want to fall in love."   
  
"Anyway, what would you want to stick around here, for. You'd just be locked up in that tower. It's not like you'd ever even get to talk to him, let alone..." The first guard wiggled his eyebrows, suggestively. "You'd just be able to look."  
  
"But now I can't even do that," Duo said, dejectedly. "Lucky Trowa...He gets to stay here and watch all that he wants." He slumped into his captors' hold, then, and allowed himself to be led, docile, to the ship that would take him home again. This sucked. This really sucked.   
  
"Lucky Duo," Trowa whispered from the window, tears in his eyes. "He's free to enact whatever plan he likes...to raise an army and come seize the city and take my beloved for his own. He's really free, and I'm stuck up here..." He trailed off as he looked down below on Duo's struggle with the guards. "He doesn't know how good he's got it."   
  
+++ TBC  
  
(*) And he does. Well, Theseus does for Pirithous, but it's the same thing. Unless I've got it backwards. Lorena! Help me! I'm not good at this footnote thing!  
  
To telle it yow as shortly as I may, A worthy duc that highte pirithous That felawe was unto duc theseus Syn thilke day that they were children lite, Was come to atthenes his felawe to visite, And for to pleye as he was wont to do; For in this world he loved no man so, And he loved hym als tendrely agayn. So wel they lovede, as olde bookes sayn, That whan that oon was deed, soothly to telle, His felawe wente and soughte hym doun in helle. 


	3. Chapter Two

+++++ PART 2 +++++  
  
"Maybe," Trowa whispered to the ceiling of his darkened chamber, "He'll attack by sea and wipe out Treize's fleet, first, so he won't be able to send out for supplies...and then lay in around the city and set up a siege like the one at Troy... No. Duo's not patient enough for a ten year campaign." Trowa rolled over on his side and stared at the stone wall, still speaking to the empty air.   
  
"Maybe he'll burn the city? No...That would put the boy at risk. Same thing with starting a plague-siege...." Trowa sighed in frustration and rolled over again, pressing his face into the pillow. "Maybe he'll cross the river so that he won't have to go over the walls..." He trailed off then and raised his head from the pillow. "Look at me," he said, scornfully. "I'm talking to myself again." He let out a sound of frustration and punched the pillow.   
  
It had been almost a year since Duo had left. He couldn't take much more of this. He was going to go insane.  
  
  
  
"It's about time for Quatre to come outside, now," Duo whispered to the ceiling of his darkened room. "Trowa will be sitting by the window, lucky dog, staring at him from the tower. And maybe today will be the day that Quatre looks up and smiles at him, and here I am half a world away." With a frustrated groan he rolled over and punched his pillow hard enough to send feathers flying. "It's not FAIR!" He wailed, covering his face with his hands. It wasn't. It really wasn't.   
  
"Why did /I/ have to be the one they let go?" Duo grumbled. With another groan he dragged himself to his feet. There was a hot meal and a bottle of good strong wine sitting on the table beside the window. The food was the servant's idea - they seemed to think that he was wasting away - but he had no interest in /that/ part of the meal. With a grimace, he grabbed the bottle by its neck and pulled out the cork with his teeth. At least they'd brought him what he'd asked for.   
  
He took a deep swallow of the heady stuff and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes. It had been months and months since he had last seen Quatre. He was going to go insane! He really was. Duo knocked his head backwards against the wall a few times before letting it rest against the cool stone. He would do anything to see the boy again. Anything to be close to him. But returning to Luxemburg would mean his death for certain. He was simply too recognizable. His hair... Duo's eyes flew open with a start. He spun to face the wall and scrutinized his face in the bronze mirror that hung beside the bed. He had been starving himself. Not intentionally...food had just not seemed as important since he had been deprived of his beloved. Now he could see why the servants had been so worried.   
  
His face was thin and gaunt. It had lost the soft curves - the baby fat - that it had held in childhood. The rest of his body had suffered the same fate. He was lean and angular now. His eyes, even, had changed, loosing much of their violent tinge and fading to a dark blue. The only thing that remained the same was his hair. It was oily and bedraggled from his negligence, but still distinctive enough to be easily recognizable. A four foot braid would have been hard to miss.  
  
It had to go.  
  
  
  
Queen Une glared down at the boy who stood before her. He was thin and pale, almost sickly looking, with thick brown hair that fell to just above his shoulders. There was a wiry strength lurking in those limbs, though. Une was good at reading potential.   
  
"What sort of experience do you have?" She asked.   
  
"Not much," The boy answered, confidently. He keep his eyes respectfully downcast. Une smiled a little. She liked that in a servant. "But I'm a quick learner and a hard worker."  
  
"Solo, is it?"   
  
"Yes, my Queen."   
  
"I don't need anyone in the house at the moment."  
  
"...oh." He said in a soft, disappointed voice.   
  
"I don't suppose you'd take garden work," She mused aloud. "We have a rather large estate with more different plants than I know what to do with. The paths are getting a bit unruly."  
  
"Garden work is fine, my Queen," the boy answered, still quiet, but smiling now. Une thought he looked awfully eager. That was good. Enthusiastic servants were good servants.   
  
"Very well," She said, curtly. "You'll start tomorrow."  
  
"Thank you, my Queen," Duo said with a grin. "You just don't know how much this opportunity means to me."   
  
  
  
  
  
As for Trowa, his life continued in just the same manner that it had for so long. With Duo gone, he divided his time between staring at the god in the garden, pondering when Duo would come and take his beloved away, and, occasionally, sleeping. Not much. Just occasionally.   
  
He was so very focused on Quatre, in fact, than it took him four years to notice that there was a new gardener. The boy was just a little shorter than himself, just about his beloved's height, and always wore a cloak with a hood while he worked. And he never looked up. But he spent an awful lot of time staring at /his/ beloved.   
  
Trowa found himself growing insanely jealous. After all...the gardener had a better view.   
  
However, by the next time that his beloved walked among the flowers, he had all but forgotten the servant. He wasn't important, after all. Nothing but his beautiful young god was important, anymore.   
  
He never thought about the gardener, again.  
  
What he did think about was escape. For three more years he thought about escape. And then, finally, when he was a young man of twenty, the opportunity finally presented itself.   
  
And he ran.  
  
He ran deep into the woods surrounding the city, trying to put as much distance between himself and the guards as possible. He would continue on to Sanq the following night and try his best to gain support for an invasion of Luxemburg. Until then, though, he needed rest and he needed concealment, and so he hid himself in a thicket and went to sleep.   
  
+++ TBC 


	4. Chapter Three

This is a fusion between Gundam Wing (property of  
Bandai) and Chaucer's "The Knight's Tale," a part of  
his Canterbury Tales (property of nobody in  
particular, as Chaucer's been dead for quite some  
time). If this strikes you as particularly  
melodramatic - good. It's supposed to. That's what the  
real thing is like, after all. The anachronisms, too,  
are intentional. Chaucer's Greeks rode around the  
countryside hunting like Englishmen and dressed like  
French gentlemen *shrugs* so don't be surprised if  
mine do the same thing. If parts of this seem a little  
silly, that's because no one but Chaucer could  
possibly write something like this and have it be  
perfectly serious; I know my limits as a writer and  
didn't even try.   
  
Title: Strif and Jalousye  
Chapter: Chapter Three (3/5)  
Pairings: 3+4 and 2+4, with other stuff mixed in  
(mostly 13x11 and 13x5)  
Warnings: Melodrama, violence, angst, death, and much  
Quatre-worshiping. I'm also issuing a warning for  
weird, dry, ironic humor. D...This ain't a story for  
you (but I think we discussed this ages ago while I  
was writing it the first time around).  
  
+ + + + + + + + + + + +   
  
  
Chapter Three  
  
Duo bent low over the neck of his horse and urged him  
onward, his hands clenched in his dark mane. He'd  
'liberated' the slender black charger from the stables  
for the afternoon and taken the opportunity to get in  
a bit of riding. It was the sort of thing he could get  
away with, now. In the years he had worked at Treize's  
estate, his devotion to his job (which mostly  
consisted of pleasing Quatre), had been noted, and he  
had been promoted several times. He was now the chief  
squire of the household and oversaw most of the day to  
day running of the place - things that the Lady Une  
could not be bothered with. Though he missed the  
contact he one had with Quatre, he knew that in such  
an elevated position he had a greater chance of  
actually catching his fancy.   
  
The rest of the servants - the entire household,  
actually - were building up piles of wood for bonfires  
and preparing a feast for the festival that would  
start when the sun went down.   
  
May Day tended to be the servants' favorite holiday.  
Then again, they were likely to leap at any chance to  
get rip-roaringly drunk and dance around bonfires all  
night. It was a fertility celebration, after all. Most  
of the actual festivities revolved around finding  
someone who looked good in the firelight and was just  
as drunk as you were to drag off into the bushes for a  
bit of a romp. Duo could certainly understand the  
appeal in that. However, he had no interest in the  
laundry maids and sculleries who would be sure to try  
and coax him away from the fire during the night. Even  
the stable hand who had helped him sneak Shinigami out  
for the day was of no interest to him, though the boy  
was certainly handsome and friendly enough and had  
made a point of asking if Duo would be at the fires  
that night.   
  
Duo only had one person on his mind - one perfectly  
beautiful, perfectly sexy, perfectly unattainable  
person with eyes like the sky and hair like the sun.  
Duo pulled back on the reigns and clicked his tongue  
at Shini as he thought of Quatre. The word among the  
servants was that Quatre wasn't coming to the  
celebration. Though it wasn't considered seemly for  
the lords or ladies of a household to gad about in the  
fields with the commoners, most did it anyway. Quatre  
was the exception. He hadn't been to see the fires  
since he was too young to participate in the more  
'grown-up' revelries.   
  
Quatre tended to keep to himself, much to Duo's  
consternation. He stayed in his rooms all day, except  
for the hour or so a day he spent wandering in the  
gardens. Things generally seemed to be just as the  
guard had told him, years ago, while bodily dragging  
him from the premises - Quatre had no desire for  
companionship and even less desire for romance. Duo  
had learned since then that Quatre was here for  
fostering with his cousin, Treize, and missed his  
family a great deal. Duo had spent a few blessed  
months working as his chamberlain and had in that time  
noticed that the boy seemed a little off-kilter at  
times. He would mope about in his rooms painting  
desolate landscapes or playing heart wrenching songs  
on his violin. In short, Quatre was lonely and  
depressed.   
  
The logical thing to do seemed to be to befriend the  
boy. Unfortunately, this wasn't working at all. Quatre  
seemed to /prefer/ being alone.  
  
Duo sighed and dropped off his horse to the grass.  
There was probably some kind of cosmic law against  
someone as gorgeous as Quatre being lonely. It just  
seemed...unnatural, somehow, for all of that to go to  
waste. Creamy skin, soft pink lips, silken hair, a  
smile to die for... Duo couldn't understand why the  
gods would put a face like that with a heart so cold.  
Or an ass like that. He grinned and stretched out on  
the ground. More than once he'd considered just  
jumping the boy in some remote part of the garden and  
having his wicked way with him. Though it was an  
interesting fantasy, it certainly wasn't something he  
could ever see himself doing. In his dreams, Quatre  
was always willing. The idea of rape was appalling to  
Duo - he'd seen far too much of it on the battlefield  
when he was young for it to hold any appeal to him  
now. He wanted to see Quatre's face contorted in  
pleasure, not in pain.   
  
Truthfully, as madly in lust with Quatre as he was, he  
wanted his heart as much as he wanted his body. Sure,  
he would settle for a romp in the hay if it was  
coming, but as long as he was dreaming, he might as  
well dream big.   
  
Duo released Shinigami's reins and wandered deeper  
into the woods. He'd come out here to get a little  
peace and quiet while he pondered his situation in  
regard to his beloved. As often as he tried, he could  
never think of a plausible way to win the boy over. He  
thought he was on the right track, anyway. Quatre  
could at least remember his name most of the time, and  
sometimes he smiled when Duo gave him presents.   
  
Presents! There was an idea. Duo had already tried, of  
course, buying the boy things with the salary he got  
from Treize and the rent he was receiving, discreetly,  
from his properties in Sanq. Money didn't seem to  
impress him one bit, though. It was hardly a surprise,  
considering what a rich family he came from, that he  
wouldn't think twice about the wealth of a mere  
servant. But at the moment Duo had thought about  
gifts, he had crossed into a grove filled with  
woodbine and hawthorne. Duo remembered from his  
gardener days that there wasn't much of either on the  
palace grounds, and one thing that Quatre always loved  
were plants and flowers. Wreathes and garlands of  
greens were a traditional way to celebrate the  
beginning of May, as well, and so the idea seemed  
perfect. Duo started putting together bundles of the  
stuff and then lay down on his back to put the thing  
together.   
  
"Who am I kidding," Duo muttered. as he struggled with  
the stems. "Look at me. I'm a prince in line for the  
throne and where am I? Sitting in the dirt and making  
garlands for a boy who thinks I'm nothing but a lowly  
peasant servant. I wouldn't have any kind of chance  
with him unless we were at the same station, which we  
really are, only I can't tell him because if I did I'd  
get my head chopped off and presented to that Amazon  
lady on a silver platter. Just a /bit/ ironic." Duo  
cursed and fought the bundles of leaves in to some  
sort of recognizable shape. When the garland was done,  
he lay it beside him and stretched out again, his  
hands beside his head. It would be worth it if it  
worked, though. Maybe he could get some before they  
killed him.  
  
Duo grinned. "Maybe if I catch him alone and bring him  
the garland, he'll smile and tell me how thoughtful  
and wonderful I am and I can just tell him everything.  
I'll say 'You know, Sir, My name isn't really Solo,  
and I'm no peasant lad. I'm actually really a nobleman  
from a far off land and the only reason I've subjected  
myself to servitude for seven years is for the  
pleasure of your company. You don't suppose I could  
have just one little kiss as a reward for all those  
years of faithful service, now do you?" Quatre would  
be powerless to resist such a reasonable request,  
after all. Duo closed his eyes and puckered up his  
lips for fantasy-Quatre. After that one kiss, of  
course, things would just fall into place and Quatre  
would be his.   
  
Then again, what was entirely more likely was that  
Quatre would take the garland, give a small smile, and  
look at Duo in that puzzled, slightly condescending  
way he usually did when Duo brought him presents -  
something like the face one might make while humoring  
a harmless madman. Duo frowned and opened his eyes.  
Trowa was standing over him, his hands clenched into  
fists. "Wait a minute," Duo said, the unexpectedness  
of the situation catching him off guard. "I thought  
you were still in jail?"  
  
As for Trowa, he had been asleep in a thicket nearby  
when he had heard Duo's rambling and gone to  
investigate. After lord knew how long locked up in  
that tower together, it was not hard for him to  
recognize his cousin, despite his disguise and the  
years that had passed. His hair was starting to grow  
back, and while it only reached his shoulder blades,  
it was held neatly in a familiar braid.  
  
Trowa had heard everything that Duo had said, and he  
was livid. It was apparent from what he had heard that  
Duo had been lying to his beloved for years, and that  
he had less than honorable designs on him. Another man  
was making plans to seduce his beloved. And now Duo  
was just looking up at him in stupid surprise,  
completely unapologetic. He could feel himself shaking  
with anger. "Traitor!" he cried. "Oath-breaker! Thief  
and liar!"  
  
"What the hell are you talking about?" Duo shouted.  
His breath was knocked from him a moment later as  
Trowa tackled him, grabbing for his throat.   
  
"You know I love him and you're planning to steal him  
anyway," Trowa growled. "You promised on your blood  
that you would support me when I fell in love and  
honor my choice, and you break your word. You've lied  
to him for seven years-"  
  
"I had to!" Duo gasped. "It was that or die!" He  
managed to flip Trowa off of himself and sprang to his  
feet, drawing his sword in one smooth motion and  
pressing it to Trowa's throat. His garland lay on the  
ground under the other boy, crushed to an unimpressive  
tangle of leaves and twigs. "If I didn't think you  
were insane," he shouted, "or if you had a weapon with  
which to fight me properly, I'd kill you now. I'm done  
with being insulted. Any promise that I may have made  
is irrelevant, now. I don't care if I'm breaking my  
word. I was a kid when I gave it and didn't know what  
love was."   
  
"You gave your word," Trowa growled.  
  
"I take it back! This is love, Trowa! It's stronger  
than any promise, and it has to have free rein!"  
  
"You will not have him while I live," Trowa swore. "I  
won't give up until I am dead or he is mine."  
  
Duo sighed and withdrew his sword. "No. I'm not going  
to murder an unarmed man. But it seems like the only  
way we can settle this is if one of us is dead. How  
about a duel?"  
  
Trowa frowned as he sat up. "I don't have any weapons  
or armor."  
  
"I'll provide them," Duo promised. "I have access to  
the Lord Treize's armory"  
  
Trowa thought this over for a few minutes and then  
nodded. "I accept your terms."   
  
"Good," Duo said. He helped his cousin to his feet.  
"I'll meet you here tomorrow at the same time."  
  
  
  
  
Trowa could hear something moving towards him through  
the forest, crashing through the brush with all the  
thunder that might precede a lion or a bear. During  
the night he had built himself a makeshift spear just  
in case Duo once again reneged on their agreement. He  
held it tightly with both hands, ready for the attack  
that he fully expected to be coming.   
  
Cousin or no, Duo was his enemy now. Only one of them  
could hold the right to love the fair-haired god of  
the garden, but neither of them was at all prepared to  
give him up. There was only one solution: one of them  
would not leave this grove alive.  
  
Trowa fought, not to possess his beloved, but rather  
to keep him safe from /being/ possessed. While Trowa's  
love was pure, free from the tangles of lust and  
lechery that often ensnare weaker men, Duo's love most  
certainly was not. If his cousin were to win the right  
to court the young god, Trowa was sure that the poor  
boy's virtue would be his prize.   
  
Trowa was not afraid to die. Indeed, the would gladly  
die for the honor of his beloved. What he did fear was  
that Duo might survive this battle somehow and find a  
way to weasel out of this deal, too. It was this fear  
that hardened his resolve more than anything else. If  
Trowa were destined to die this day, even if he were  
damned to hell for murdering his kin, he was not going  
to die alone.  
  
The rushing quieted as Duo broke into the clearing.  
His charger reared up, striking the air with his  
hooves. Before Trowa could react, a sword and shield  
were thrown down at his feet, followed a moment later  
by a breastplate and helmet. So Duo /had/ kept his  
word this time. In a moment, he had exchanged his  
rough weaponry for something a bit more skillfully  
made.  
  
As for Duo, his resolve was set as well. He had  
determined long ago that he would rather die than lose  
Quatre to another - and in fact he feared that the  
loss itself would kill him. He was very sorry that he  
was going to have to kill his cousin, but he knew he  
sure as hell wasn't going to die without ever tasting  
even one sweet kiss from Quatre's lips - and hopefully  
quite a bit more.  
  
With his mouth set in a determined line, he swung down  
from Shinigami's back. Pulling his own armor and  
weaponry from his saddle, he began dressing in  
silence, trying his best to ignore the fact that his  
most hated enemy stood just beside him. He had some  
difficulty supporting the heavy breastplate and  
securing it at the same time. Silently, Trowa helped  
him with the awkward piece of armor then turned so  
that Duo could return the favor.   
  
This done, both men strapped on their helmets and drew  
their weapons. They faced each other from a few paces  
away, the tense silence broken only by the sound of a  
nearby brook. Both men took a great breath, and then  
at a nod from Trowa it began, and both sides rushed  
forward with a terrible shout.  
  
  
  
"Don't let him get away!" Une shouted, urging her  
horse forward and forcing Quatre and his mount into  
the bushes as she sped past. "We've already lost the  
damned scent twice."  
  
"And my dogs have found him again every time," Treize  
said with an indulgent smile. He, too, passed Quatre,  
who was still struggling to get free of the bushes.  
Difficulty resolved, he spurred his own mount and  
raced after the others, still ahead of the rest of the  
hunting party.  
  
The royal family was out for a day of sport, chasing a  
stag that Treize's hounds had scented early that  
morning. He was proving to be an especially tricky  
quarry, with all sorts of tricks in his repertoire.  
Quatre could recognize one already from the direction  
that they were heading. "We'll lose him at the  
stream!" he shouted ahead. "We can't catch him before  
then and he knows it!"  
  
"The hell we can't," Une muttered. She kicked her  
mount hard, jumping him across a felled log without  
losing speed. She had dressed for the hunt in a pair  
of Quatre's breeches and was riding in a saddle  
identical to that of her husband. Quatre had only  
occasionally seen the lady riding sidesaddle, and  
Treize had confided that the last time he had seen  
that particular spectacle, the Lady had fallen from  
her horse. As she was, though, she was an excellent  
rider, and Quatre was forced to ride hard to catch up  
with the couple. When he did, he found them pacing the  
banks of a small stream. Treize's hounds were milling  
about, confused and dismayed, but determined  
nonetheless to find the scent again.   
  
Quatre rode through them and into the water - it was  
shallow and would do his mare no harm. From this  
vantage point, he scanned the opposite bank for tracks  
and broken twigs, trying to block out the baying of  
the hounds. "If I were a deer..." He murmured.  
  
"If you were a deer," Treize supplied, "We'd never  
catch you. You're far too clever."  
  
"There," Quatre said, pointing. A good 20 feet  
upstream, there was a broken stem on their side of the  
brook. "He's pretty clever himself, doubling back like  
that," he concluded.  
  
"Ha," the Lady said. She wheeled her mount around and  
whistled for the hounds before splashing upstream  
against the current to the site where the deer had  
come ashore. In a moment, they were off again.  
  
Quatre didn't catch up with his cousin again until  
they had slowed to keep from spooking the stag. The  
Lady had the lead again, her bow drawn. Quatre could  
just see tawny brown through the bushes, twitching  
slightly with the creature's breath. From her  
position, Quatre guessed the Lady had a perfect shot.  
But she did not take it.   
  
In a moment, her stance softened from that of a  
huntress to that of one not quite certain how a bow  
had found its way to her hand. "He's beautiful," she  
whispered, her voice so soft the stag found it  
unmoving.   
  
Not again, Quatre thought.   
  
A second later, a sharp, ringing sound was heard, as  
of metal on metal. The stag lifted its head and  
bolted, disappearing again into the brush.   
  
"So much for that," Treize muttered.   
  
"What was that sound?" Quatre asked. When Treize only  
shrugged, he started slowly forward. "Why would anyone  
be way out here?" he wondered.  
  
"And on my land," Treize said with a sigh. "Lady,  
follow us, please."  
  
"Yes, My Lord," the Lady murmured demurely, giving her  
horse a gentle tap on the flanks.   
  
As they rode, the clanging sounds came more and more  
frequently. Occasionally, human cries could be heard,  
though it was heard to determine if they were of pain  
or triumph. The party followed the course of the  
little stream, easier to navigate than the thickets.  
After just a few minutes, Quatre noticed something.  
"Look at the water," he whispered, signaling for the  
others to be quiet. There were streaks of red staining  
the otherwise clear stream.   
  
"Damn it all," Treize muttered. He drew his sword and  
moved ahead of Quatre, increasing his pace again. He  
motioned for the others to remain where they were and  
wait for the rest of the party.   
  
Quatre frowned. "I'm not missing all the excitement,"  
he said. With that, he kicked his mount and hurried  
off after his cousin.   
  
"Don't leave me," Une whispered. A moment later, he  
heard her splashing along after him.   
  
By the time they caught up with Treize, the water  
through which they waded was entirely red. It was  
clear that some great battle was taking place  
upstream. Not long after, the combatants came into  
view.  
  
Two young men in shining armor stood in the stream.  
They were wet and bedraggled, snarling like animals as  
they struck at each other again and again. Blood ran  
in rivulets from a dozen heavy wounds, staining the  
water a violent red. They waded to the ankles in their  
mingled blood, churning it to foam with their passage.  
  
"Enough!" Treize roared. One of the men looked up and  
Quatre caught a glimpse of startling green eyes before  
man was brought down by a blow to the back of the neck  
dealt by the pommel of his opponent's sword. The  
green-eyed man fell into the water and dropped his  
sword, which he began searching for frantically in the  
murky water even as his opponent raised his own weapon  
for the killing blow.   
  
Treize's sword deflected that strike. While Quatre's  
attention had been locked on the combatants, his  
cousin had somehow dismounted and managed to get  
between them. "The first of you that moves for his  
weapon," he promised, "Gets his head lopped off." He  
watched warily as the fallen man pulled himself out of  
the water and onto a nearby rock, apparently not  
caring for his many wounds. "Who are you," Treize  
asked him, "To be fighting like this out here. Dueling  
is forbidden in this land without the proper  
procedure."  
  
"It doesn't matter who we are," the green-eyed man  
said, turning his gaze to Quatre again. He fished his  
sword out of the water and handed it, pommel up, to  
Treize. "The penalty for dueling is death to both  
parties, correct?"  
  
Quatre blinked at the intensity of that stare. The man  
looked unbelievably pained. Quatre watched as the man  
removed his helmet, revealing a delicately handsome  
face and auburn hair, thick with sweat, that stuck out  
at a strange angle.  
  
The sight of the stricken man was beginning to make  
Quatre's heart ache. He turned his eyes away, seeking  
relief, only to find himself caught by another,  
similarly intense stare. This second young man was  
staring at him like a man starved, and Quatre himself  
the first morsel of food he had seen in days. Quatre  
felt a twinge of recognition, but he couldn't place  
the man's face, obscured as it was by his helmet and  
the blood that covered him from head to toe.  
  
What the hell was going on here?  
  
"I'll know your names first," Treize said. "And you  
will tell me now."  
  
"And I've told you already that it doesn't matter.  
We've broken the law and you should kill us both or  
let us finish killing each other. You can kill me  
first, if you like," the man with the green eyes said.  
He pulled loose his breastplate and let it fall into  
the water before touching his fingertips to the front  
of his throat. "As long as you kill my opponent as  
well. I would rest easier, though, if you were to kill  
him first. I don't like the idea of his outliving me."  
  
Treize prepared to speak again, obviously growing  
increasingly frustrated with all this chatter. The  
green-eyed man interrupted him, though.  
  
"Take off your helmet, cousin," he said, turning to  
his opponent who stood on the opposite bank. "Now  
isn't the time for secrets, after all."  
  
The other man's eyes were still fixed on Quatre with  
that hungry stare. For a brief moment, he turned his  
eyes to glare at his opponent before looking back to  
Quatre again. The longer Quatre looked at him, the  
more certain he became that he knew the man somehow.  
  
"I've never known you to be so silent," the green-eyed  
man said with a malicious grin. "Afraid you'll give  
yourself away?"  
  
"Shut up."  
  
Quatre's eyes widened when he heard that voice.  
"Solo?"  
  
Treize spun around, and pointed his sword at the man  
on the bank. "Take that helmet off, boy."  
  
'Solo' ignored this order and instead lunged past  
Treize at his opponent with renewed fury, only barely  
missing impaling him on his blade.  
  
"Not Solo!" The green-eyed boy shouted in triumph as  
he rolled out of the way and behind Treize's horse.  
"Duo of Sanq, banished from this land years ago."  
  
"Traitor!" Duo roared. He rushed at him again only to  
be struck down by the flat of Treize's sword and  
landed, coughing, in the bloody water. He was forced  
to rip off his helmet or risk drowning, unable to  
expel the fluid from his lungs. Quatre drew back from  
the fury blazing in his eyes.  
  
"He's been living in your house for years, hiding his  
identity, lying to you every day, all out of the evil  
designs he holds on My Lord," the man swore, turning  
again to Quatre, this time with a bow.  
  
"Me!?" Quatre squeaked. He jerked hard on the reigns  
to force his horse away from the man who was advancing  
on him, now, stumbling as he came.  
  
"And I am Trowa, who escaped from the castle tower  
only yesterday," the man confessed. "I've watched you  
for years, My Lord. I lost my heart to you when I was  
only a child." He reached with one bloody hand to  
touch the hem of Quatre's coat. "Your beauty-"  
  
"That's enough," Treize said, grabbing Trowa by the  
arm and jerking him backward. Trowa cried out in pain,  
but went compliantly. Quatre looked to Solo - no, Duo,  
who sat now on the bank with his helmet in his hands,  
looking forlorn.   
"By your own confession," Treize continued. "You are  
both guilty of serious crimes. Kneel."  
  
Trowa immediately dropped to his knees and bowed his  
head, though his eyes remained fixed on Quatre. Duo,  
however, tensed as he prepared for action.  
  
"Don't kill them!" the Lady Une cried. Until now, she  
had been overcome by all the blood. The promise of  
more, though, was what prompted her to action. "My  
Lord, please - they aren't in their right minds; love  
has made them mad! You can't kill them over a crime of  
passion." There were tears in her eyes, and Quatre  
could feel a lump forming in his own throat.   
  
He was a kind young man, and did not like to see  
anything or anyone suffer if there was no need. He  
felt, also, in some strange way, that if these two men  
were to be killed, it would be his fault and his  
alone. Whatever he had done to ignite this fervor in  
two strangers had brought them to this point.  
"Treize," he said softly, "The Lady is right. Love  
makes people do strange things. I can't pretend to  
understand any of this, though, or to know why they  
picked me out of all the people in the world to go mad  
over, but mad they are. Madmen often receive special  
treatment under the law, do they not?"  
  
Treize looked first at one man and then the other.  
Quatre could tell that he was wavering.  
  
"They fought valiantly," he reminded him. "And this  
one," he gestured to Trowa, "Did surrender."  
  
"True," Treize murmured. He thought for a moment, then  
sheathed his sword. "When I was your age and in love,  
I went to war to win my bride." He looked to Une, who  
smiled down at him benignly from her horse. " I do  
understand the force behind all this. It's only fair  
that I give you a chance to settle this."  
  
"Yes!" Duo crowed, punching the air.   
  
"And I think I know the perfect way to do just that  
without anyone having to die."  
  
"Wonderful!" Quatre said with a smile. "How?"  
  
"I'll give each of you fifty weeks to raise an army of  
100 men," he said to Duo and Trowa. "At the end of  
that time, you will return here for a great battle  
game. The object will be to capture the enemy rather  
than kill him, and the first captain taken to the  
stake or wounded too gravely to continue will be the  
loser."  
  
"That sounds perfect," Quatre said.   
  
"And the victor will have Quatre's hand," Treize  
finished, quite obviously proud of his solution.  
  
"What?" Quatre cried. "I didn't agree to that!"  
  
"Well, you're what they're fighting over, aren't you?"  
  
"But-"  
  
"We agree to your terms," Duo said. Trowa rose to his  
feet again and nodded. "Winner takes all."  
  
"Now wait a minute!" Quatre shouted. He didn't like  
the sound of that "takes all" part one bit. It was too  
late, though - the rest of the party chose that moment  
to arrive and Treize immediately began telling them  
all about his brilliant idea.   
  
Quatre looked around in despair. His 'suitors' had  
already disappeared into the woods from which they had  
come. He would not see them again for fifty weeks.  
There was no way to talk them out of it.  
  
"How in Tartarus did I get roped into this?" he  
muttered.   
  
TBC  
  
Heh heh heh... Think things are a mess now? Just wait  
until the next chapter, when the Gods decide to get  
involved... 


End file.
